carpe noctem

i seize the night.
i reach for the stars as i sing under the moonlight.
i don't sleep.
i'm a zombie, a vampire, lusting in the dark,
pumping bloodless ode to luna,
the dead queen up above.
kissing.
licking.
frolicking.
the nocturnal dreams of the insomniac writer..
with his mediocre poems,
forgettable whims, quotes, lines.
who hates rhymes and poetry books
and trying hard poets with crappy verses
like this. and that and further beyond the script.
the decay eats the day of this black ink on a blank canvass,
waiting to be devoured
by the purple sky full of blinking lights.
no more nightmares, as they say,
for the children of midnight.
waiting for that nocturnal dreams of the insomniac writer.
pausing as the ufo hovers by.
the pen coughed red smears,
useless ink.
dead print.
seizing the night.